Mrinalini.
"Ira.." A woman wearing a traditional yellow and red 'aatpoure' (eightfold) saree, calls. Her forehead shines with a round kumkum bindi. The ending part of her saree is draped over her head as a traditional veil called 'ghomta'. Right beside her sits another woman, seemingly much older than her. Her hair is cut short with very little length, she is wearing a bright white saree and from her appearance she is a widow. Both the women are wearing full sleeve woolen blouses.
"Ira.." Now the old woman calls out. After a few seconds a slender and tiny Ira comes running inside. Her hair is divided into two thick braids. She is wearing a striped saree over a yellow full sleeve woolen blouse as well.
"Yes maa." Ira says, running to the younger woman smilingly and hugging her from behind.
"Take the glasses to your brother and let me know if Mrinal has come yet, okay?" The woman says, handing a tray to her.
"Yes, yes." The kid responds, as if bored.
"Where is your glass? Did you again pour the milk into the soil?" The woman asks again, as the old woman shakes her head smilingly.
"No! I drank it. I'll bring you the empty glass as a proof, you'll see." Ira protests.
"Abha, don't trust this devil. She certainly thought 'the trees need milk more than me' again. Did you not?" The woman asks playfully.
"Yes, yesterday I thought so but today I thought I needed it more than the trees. Happy?" Ira answers.
"That we'll find out. Now go." Abha smiles, ruffling Ira's hair.
¤¤¤¤¤
"Would you kindly lift your face from the book, dada?" Ira asks, entering into her brother's room without even knocking. The man, who was extremely engrossed into his study, finally lifts his face as his glass protected grey eyes look at the intruder. His eyes softens as he closes the book to make space for the tray his sister is still carrying. His towering height, sharp jawline, jet black hair and deep steady eyes give him a very intimidating aura. An aura not many can ignore but there is a softer side to his personality that becomes visible every time he is around any of the four ladies of his life.
"Where is your homework?" He asks Ira, pretending to be strict. Ira, who is caught off guard, shifts her eyes from her brother to the bookshelves. She urgently needs to make up something.
"I.. I was actually doing the homework, when boro maa called, you know. I'll bring it in an hour." She says and immediately scurries away. Her brother barely manages to hold his laughter at her actions.
"Bichhu (devil)!" He utters to himself, bringing a glass of milk to his lips. Immediately after, his room fills up with the smell of fresh sandalwood and pine trees.
"What took you so much time?" The man asks, keeping his eyes to the book.
"Your beloved kakima. What else?" A girl answers confidently entering into his room and habitually picking up the covered glass of milk, sitting on the tray. Her long straight hair is dangling even below her hips. Her gleaming pitch black irises looking royal and confident, fitting beautifully against her glossy olive skin. She's taller than the average female race of her community. Her blue saree and decorated blouse looks expensive but she seems to be the wrong person to be carrying that dress properly. Which makes the whole otherwise beautiful attire look more like a blue bandage wrapped all around her body.
"What about her?" The man asks, noting down something on his writing pad with his ink pen.
"Following baba moshai's orders and dolling me up." She says, picking out a book from the huge bookshelf. Her words make the man finally lift his face and look at her. And the very moment he does his stout face breaks into a fit of laughter.
"This..this..what.." He tries to talk but his laughter makes it hard for him.
"Ridhu da! Will you stop it?!" The girl says throwing the book at the man and glaring at him. Finally after a few minutes, Ridhu stops and tries to balance his breathing.
"You look beautiful, Mrinal. Trust me." He says, stifling another laugh.
"Yeah, I can see that from your expression." Mrinal responds.
"What on earth happened to Nalini Kakima? I bet her sense of humor has increased. " Ridhu says, getting back to his writing, while trying hard to control his smile.
"I don't know. Bring me one of Kakima's. I can't go out like this." Saying so she moves to the bed and plops down on it with the book in her hand. Supporting her lying figure on her elbows, she starts reading it. Her unkempt hair covering half of her body.
An hour passes by like this. Mrinal keeps asking questions whenever she faces difficulty through her reading and Ridhu keeps explaining to her and getting back to his work. This has become their daily routine for god knows how many years. Mrinal spends most of her times here, even when Ridhu goes out for his work. Ridhu never took her as an outsider, from the very day he found her climbing a tree inside their garden and stealing the fruits for a sickly girl from the village. She was only eight years old then, he was ten, but she didn't have the heart to say no to that girl when she asked for food. He still remembers how his uncle, who passed away that same year, scolded the village girl out of their property, even after seeing her cry.
Mrinal is a free spirit. You can't keep her caged, she knows how to free herself. That's why even when it was a strict no on education for girls under their Maharaja's rule, she bravely asked for it at the age of twelve. No not to her parents, she was smart enough to not pull that on them but she came to him. He was scared, extremely scared, but he couldn't say no to her the moment his eyes fell on her gleaming hopeful eyes.
He never knew then, he never knew what weapon he was unknowingly creating. But now when he looks at her he feels proud on her for becoming what she is now. For being brave enough to part the education she gathered within these years, to the willing female kids. He feels happy to see her successfully imparting her knowledge to the kids, all the while keeping it hidden from everyone's eyes.
She is taking a huge risk, he knows, but he also knows he will never stop her. Because she is right, she has always been.
"I'll be leaving within fifteen minutes. Are you done?" Mrinal asks, closing her book.
"Just a minute." Ridhu says finishing up his writing.
"Done." He says, standing up and placing the book back in its place.
"Here." Mrinal gets down from the bed and brings out a comb from the drawer. She drags one chair and places it right infront of the bed while handing him the comb. Ridhu takes it and settles on the bed, as if this is the most natural part of his life. Mrinal takes her seat on the chair as he begins combing her unkempt hair, parting the hairs from the very middle.
"Oh, I just remembered. You beat up Shubhro again? Why?" Ridhu asks braiding her hairs.
"He was disturbing Malini, again. You want me to hug him?" Mrinal asks, sarcastically. But the image somehow doesn't settle well with him.
"No, why would I want that? If he was being a jerk, I am totally okay with it. Just be careful next time and don't beat him publicly. They come to my father with the huge list of complaints against you." He says, leaving one braid and starting with the other.
"Deal." She says and he shakes his head, smiling at her antics.
She stands up and walks to the drawer once again placing the comb back to its place and bringing out a square shaped wooden box. She opens it and takes out some coins from it. Closing it she places it back into the drawer and turns back to leave.
"Back to home by 2.00 PM." Ridhu says to her, while moving the chair back to its place.
"I wont." Mrinal teases.
"Mrinal.." Ridhu warns, turning his face and looking at her retreating figure.
"Yes yes, I'll be back. Promise." With that Mrinal leaves for Abha. She sincerely wants a comfortable saree before going to the woods.
¤¤¤¤¤
"Individual Vakeels (advocates) have no future in our country Aniruddha. How many times do I have to explain it to you?" Aswini Deb Barman utters.
"You want me to become someone like you? An advocate who will be controlled by the puppet Advocate General? That's not me baba. I want to fight for what I feel as truth, what I see as truth. I want to find out the truth, not tamper it." Ridhu aka Aniruddha says.
"Think before you talk boy! I tamper the truth?!" His father shouts.
"Can you deny it? I would be proud if my assumption fails baba. But I know you can't." Aniruddha says.
"How much will you make from being an individual advocate? You won't have a backup. People will mostly treat you as a trash, because that's what they do with individual advocates in this country Aniruddha. Do you think I never tried to fight for the truth? I did son, but when you have a backup you sometimes get to fight for what's right as well and sustain at the same time." Aswini explains.
"I respect your hardwork baba but I'll never be satisfied with the 'sometimes get to fight for what's right' concept. Because I am not you." Saying so Aniruddha gets out of the house.
¤¤¤¤¤
"No, Nalini. This isn't correct. Our Mrinal is a gem of a woman. Her complexion can't decide her fate." Abha says, sitting on her bed.
"What fate are you talking about? Did my complexion not decide my fate? What am I to my husband, probably a mere servant. Even servants get better treatment in my house, Abha. I just don't want her to have the same fate like me." Nalini says, looking out of the window.
"Time has changed Nalini. I believe she will get someone who won't only love her but respect her as well." Abha tries to comfort the other woman who turns her teary eyes towards her.
"All of them rejected my Mrinal due to her complexion, Abha. My daughter is barely a girl, she still doesn't know how to cook, how to wear a saree properly, she runs away from home without telling me, she fights with boys. At the age of being a mother to some grown up kids, she is still unmarried and is still climbing a tree somewhere and stealing fruits from people's personal gardens and to top it she is rude. Who is going to marry her?" Nalini asks, looking truly worried.
Abha smiles at her words.
"Mrinal doesn't need to become a woman if that changes such a strong and beautiful personality of hers. Mark my words Nalini, there has to be someone who would do anything for her and that person would love her for how she is. He would love her without changing her personality. I have full confidence."
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Love, Puja. 💜